PureSchmaltz

Rendered Fat Content

The Grand Otter started her first job today. She's been enraptured at the prospect, after looking for over a year with only two interviews granted in that time. She almost consigned herself to the ranks of those who would never find suitable employment until a friend vouched for her and that second interview went well. Now, performance time looms. Serving tables three to nine, her school day extended until well after dark, her days shifting from long and empty to surprisingly short and full. Slip over here for more ...

He taught her to play that leaf-front girl guitar I bought her that summer before her world started falling apart. The way she took to that instrument made ducks question the depth of their relationship with water. After that first lesson, she wrote her first song. Others quickly followed.

Franklin turned out to become one of the few unconditionally positive influences in The Grand Otter's life then, for he taught her to open up just when the world seemed to insist that she just had to shut down or die. At fourteen-going-on-twenty-three, she could arrogantly ignore almost any good advice, but Franklin, side-stepping the usual defense mechanisms, invited her to open up no more than that girl guitar insisted. Girl guitars carry an insistence all their own.

She grew up in our absence. She seemed to be working on mastering twenty three at fifteen. Now that she's newly passed into her eighteenth year, though, that poise which seemed so prominently missing from her earlier attempts at maturity has arrived. Sure, remnants of gawkiness remain, but as grace notes rather than dominant melody. Somehow, out of that roller coaster ride, a beautiful young woman walks up out of the arrivals queue. Neither The Muse nor I at first recognized her. Slip over here for more ...